


for your health

by drown (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, and luke gets cockblocked, and they have a movie marathon, based off a fanart tihng that popped up on my dash, basically thats it, like honestly it sucks im o sor rys, luke and ashton kiss a lot, on halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/drown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re supposed to love me,” Luke stresses, even though at this point he’s just doing this to be a little shit—he really does love spending this kind of time with Ashton, even if he feels like his balls have shriveled up in the process.</p><p>“I love you very much but it’s Halloween.”</p><p>(luke and ashton have a movie marathon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	for your health

**Author's Note:**

> im feeling kinda sick right now but HAPPY HALLOWEEN BABES i hope you have a lovely one  
> here is my treat although im not sure how much of a treat it is....... yeah  
> based off of [this lovely fanart](http://tomlinzn.tumblr.com/post/101214868999/day-28-watching-scary-movies-5sos-lashton)  
> find me on tumblr @ tomlinzn for...... a lot of shit  
> ummmmm title is from for your health my the word alive literally nothing to do with this but i feel like CRAp so i was too lazy to find anythign relevant  
> thats all goodbye i dont own the boys pls don't hate me

Ashton is weird. Luke is well aware of that.

Like, for an _extremely_ Australian kid, he gets weirdly into Halloween; he has since they spent the 31st in America one year and, well. Here he is now, twenty years old and dressed entirely in Halloween fare; a baggy old jumper that he’d nicked from Jack Barakat of all people that’s fraying at the seams, black jeans with purple Vans and a stupid striped scarf around his neck. It’s cute—he’s cute, but Luke folds his arms over his chest, arches an eyebrow and looks vaguely unimpressed.

“Hello,” Ashton says cheerfully, stepping through the doorway (he’s probably forgotten his keys _again_ ) and whipping that god-awful scarf off. He stretches up and presses his wind-chapped lips against Luke’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, and then the bridge of his nose before lowering himself back onto his heels and grinning widely. There’s a flush rising on his cheeks, and the tip of his nose is red. Luke can’t fight his smile.

“Hey,” Luke says, chuckling as Ashton nuzzles into his collarbone and shoves his frigid hands under Luke’s shirt as if he’s trying to leech off his body heat. A mischievous little imp, Ashton is. Luke loves him quite a bit. “How was the party? Michael and Calum fucked off and left me here.”

“Boring without you,” Ashton says, kicking his shoes off and catching Luke’s hands to pull him back into the living room. “And good riddance, really.”

“Mean,” Luke tries to protest weakly, but Ashton just rolls his eyes.

“You know what happened last time.”

“They’re cute!”

“They were literally dry-humping against our fridge, Luke,” Ashton says flatly, lifting a hand when Luke goes to argue again. He’s all about true love, and shit—and he’s been waiting for Michael and Calum to get together since forever. Ashton’s not quite as enthusiastic about it. “I want all weird stains in this flat to be our own, thanks.”

Yeah, okay, so Michael and Calum are a little bit disgusting. They’re both annoying idiots—perfectly suited for each other. Granted, Luke and Ashton are also annoying idiots and have been caught with their hands down each other’s pants in semi-public places more than once. Ashton obviously has no room to talk.

“I guess that can be arranged,” Luke says thoughtfully after a moment, flopping down onto the couch and smiling up at Ashton indulgently.

“Later,” Ashton says with a sly sort of smirk that makes Luke narrow his eyes.

“Now,” Luke says, and pouts deeply until Ashton clambers into Luke’s lap, knees bent on either side of his hips. He slips his hands up and cups Luke’s face gently, thumbing at the hinges of Luke’s jaw and they just sort of share secret, horribly mushy smiles until Ashton lowers his mouth to Luke’s, kisses him slow and soft until it feels like there’s fire rippling up Luke’s spine, his lower back prickling with sensation.

Inhaling slowly, Luke brings an arm up and bands it around Ashton’s waist, licks gently at the seam of his lips until he parts them and their tongues stroke together, slick and hot. It’s always overwhelming when they do this, feels like Luke is drowning, feels like everything outside of this and them is blurred by the blood rushing violently in his ears. He takes another deep breath and nibbles at Ashton’s lip, sinking back into the sofa and smiling in satisfaction when he feels Ashton shuffle forward a little, so they’re pressed flush together, hips slotting perfectly as Ashton grinds into him.

Everything Ashton does is with purpose—always has been, since the day they’d met. He knows what he wants, he _takes_ what he wants, and it’s refreshing and makes this all so much more real to Luke, who’s always bumbled about in life with half-arsed words and a lot of lying, to both himself and everyone around him. Right now, it’s far too clear what Ashton wants and, well, it’s not as if Luke’s about to say no to that.

(Ashton’s got this thing. He likes to let go when they sleep together—likes handing over the reins to Luke, who picks him apart and unravels him until he can’t breathe, and then pieces him back together, makes him whole again. Luke fucking loves it.)

He curves his fingers, sweeps his stupid, stupid jumper up, digs into the dimples at the base of his spine, and splays a palm over his warm, golden skin, brushing into the valley in his strong, broad back. They shudder into each other, melt together, kiss and tangle together until they feel like one entity—Luke rolls his hips up and revels in Ashton’s soft, responsive mewl, the profound ache in his groin increasing until he’s letting out throaty little groans with every easy thrust. Luke reaches up and knots a hand into Ashton’s sandy curls, tugs his head back, and he grabs onto Luke’s shoulders as if to anchor himself.

They pull apart and Luke trails down, kisses and nips along the cut of his jaw and sinks his teeth into his neck and leaves bruises that won’t go for _days_ , he knows. Ashton just collapses closer, arches against Luke’s mouth and bites at his own swollen lips, eyes closed.

Luke’s about to ask if they should move, if this should be happening in the bedroom instead, but then as if he’s teleported into actual hell, Ashton breaks away, eyes wide.

“You know what we should do?” He asks breathlessly, wiping a hand across his mouth. Luke frowns and cranes his head up, wordlessly asking for more kisses; Ashton obliges once, twice, gets lost again, grabs Luke at the nape of his neck and sucks on his tongue until he growls and then pulls away again.

“What?” Luke whines, huffing and falling back against the couch. He feels tight all over, like there’s a frustrating itch beneath his skin. He really wants to suck Ashton’s dick but Ashton is making it a bit difficult.

“We should have a movie marathon. Shitty horror films.”

Ashton looks unnecessarily excited, bouncing a little on Luke’s lap and jostling his unfortunate boner. Luke blinks at him, perturbed, his hand still fisted in Ashton’s hair. “You—are such an idiot. I hate you,” he grumbles, letting his head drop forward against Ashton’s collarbone.

The only response he gets to that is a breathy chuckle, and Ashton winds his arms around Luke and pets gently at his hair. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you,” Luke repeats, but doesn’t pass up the opportunity to press feather-light kisses over the enticing curve of Ashton’s shoulder, exposed by how the neck of his jumper has started to scoop down over his arm.

With an impatient noise, Ashton drags Luke’s head up, glowering at him pointedly. He looks debauched, hair rumpled and pink marks all along his jaw and throat, but he also looks oddly intimidating. Luke never forgets that no matter how compact he is, Ashton could very easily beat the absolute shit out of him if he ever felt the need. His arms are this wonderful for a reason.

“Yes?” Ashton prods, and Luke lets his lip protrude in another pout in the hopes that it’ll work again.

It doesn’t.

“Shit, yeah!” Ashton exclaims, unnecessarily cheerful, cracking a bright grin and leaning forward to press a smacking kiss against Luke’s mouth, then climbing off of his lap.

Luke glances down sulkily at his neglected dick, but decides that even if Ashton’s a tease it’s very nice to make him happy and he knows that they’re both happiest when they’re just spending time together. It’s how things have always been; no one disputes it. He runs a hand through his flat hair and stares sadly after Ashton, who bounces away into the kitchen and returns with several bags of unhealthy snacks piled up in his arms and a proud smile on his face.

It’s horrible, and Luke’s still got this faint buzz in his nerves, but he has to smile back—again, it’s contagious. “You planned this, didn’t you,” he accuses, and Ashton just shrugs beatifically.

“Might have, might have not,” he says, demure, and Luke narrows his eyes in a glare, making Ashton just huff out a soft laugh as he tumbles down onto the couch again.

“I’m picking the film,” Luke says, giving up the annoyed act in favor of scowling and grabbing for the remote.

“You always pick the dumb ones,” Ashton whines.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“No, the point is for you to get so scared that you accidentally fall on my _dick_.”

“You didn’t have to cock-block me to get that,” Luke points out, but rolls his eyes as he goes up and fiddles with the TV until they’re on Netflix. He picks something with a classic indie horror film cover, some monster dripping in corrosive greens and browns rising up over a group of scared and probably very dumb teenagers. It should be a laugh.

He shuffles back and instead of taking his usual seat on the couch, plops down in between Ashton’s spread legs, hooking his arm through the bend of Ashton’s knee and leaning his head against his thigh comfortably as the movie starts.

In school, there was a lot of discussion in English about irony, and how what’s shown is different from the real thing. Distantly, Luke thinks that this movie is a perfect example of that, because from the first scene on he’s clutching fearfully at Ashton’s leg and feeling like his ribcage has frozen, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Ashton is snickering a little at the outright startled expression contorting Luke’s face, but he’s also got his arms looped over his shoulders and Luke can hear his breath catch in all the tensest places so he’s not getting away with that.

The idiots on screen are turning a corner and Luke claws into Ashton’s ankle, a whimper pouring from between his clenched teeth and then there’s this huge bang-thud-flash and Luke jumps about seven feet in the air, hugging Ashton’s leg and burying his face into Ashton’s strong thigh and closing his eyes tight. Ashton is still laughing a little, but he also strokes through Luke’s hair and bends over to kiss him on the forehead and tell him it’s not real.

So, like, it’s okay.

After two hours of _that_ bullshit, Luke has lost both his raging erection and also any pretense of appearing anything less than a scared little boy. He migrates into Ashton’s lap somewhere between the ending credits and the next movie, folding up his long, long limbs and curling into himself so he can tuck his head beneath Ashton’s chin, reaching for a bag of Lays despite being scared shitless.

“Human Centipede or The Conjuring?” Ashton asks, squinting at the screen. Luke tips his head back and aims a disbelieving look at Ashton’s jawline.

“Neither, what the fuck.”

“Human Centipede 2?”

“ _Ashton._ Ashton, no. Fuck—you asshole. You’re an asshole!” Ashton is cackling as he hits play on The Conjuring.

Luke kind of maybe hates him.

“This is it,” he says, pressing his face into Ashton’s neck and whining under his breath as the music starts. The music is the worst part. It builds the feeling of _oh shit something bad’s gonna happen_ even more, which he supposes is the point. “This is it. We’re getting divorced. I’m marrying Michael.”

“Michael doesn’t love you like I do,” Ashton sighs, wrapping his arms snugly around Luke’s pitiful, long body.

“Michael loves me _better_.”

Ashton snorts loudly, tearing his eyes from the screen long enough to look down, smile, and drop a soft kiss against Luke’s slack mouth. With a noise of content, Luke reaches up, threading his fingers into Ashton’s hair to keep him there against him, and they kiss long and slow and deep until something hot starts to rise in Luke’s belly, foregoing the entirety of the opening scenes to touch each other and get each other worked up all over again. It’s great, even with the dumb movie sounds in the background.

Unfortunately for him, though, Ashton seems to have something out for his happiness because he drags himself away and settles back against the couch to watch, only humming under his breath as Luke swoops in and mouths at his throat, sucks biting kisses along his collarbones.

“Stop that,” Ashton says, swatting at his face, “you’re turning me on.”

“Good,” Luke says, drawing a cheeky hand up beneath Ashton’s jumper, his fingertips following the indents of Ashton’s defined torso and catching on the buds of his nipples. Ashton moans a little, eyelids fluttering, and Luke feels smug and also hopeful. “I think you should fuck me tonight, babe.” He closes his teeth on the jut of Ashton’s collarbone, just enough that it hurts a little. Ashton moans again, arms shifting tighter around Luke.

“Luke,” he murmurs, sounding a little breathless, glancing down at him again. Luke bites down on his lip ring, smirks a little. “You’re such a little shit.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Ashton says, and Luke sighs as he goes back to watching the movie, decides that it’s worth squirming around until he can properly face the screen.

And, like, of course The Conjuring is the single scariest thing Luke’s ever been faced with ever—or at least, that’s what it feels like in the moment. He’s not good with this sort of stuff, no matter how fun it might be to think he’s going to literally piss his pants at any moment. Every time anything happens, he hunkers down, squeals loud and buries his face into the inseam of Ashton’s jeans, gripping at his forearms tight.

“Babe, shh,” Ashton says, petting him gently. It’s soothing and it’s nice, but Luke lets out another sad noise in response. “Just a movie.”

It goes on for another hour—two? Three? Luke can’t tell nor does he think it’s relevant—before finally, finally Ashton sighs and tells him it’s over and he picks his head up from where he’d had it pressed into Ashton’s chest, where he’d been breathing in the spicy-sweet smell of him, and smiles.

“Something sweet next,” he says, and Ashton laughs.

“How about—uh, Werewolf Princess.”

“Sounds great.”

“That’s me, I’m a werewolf princess,” Ashton says, straight-faced, and Luke looks up at him very seriously, takes his face into his hands.

“I’ll be your vampire prince. ‘Til the end of time,” Luke says.

They stare each other in the eyes Very Seriously, but then Ashton makes this horrible, strangled cough-laugh sound and his eyes brighten and then Luke bites down on his lip ring hard so he doesn’t laugh in response but it doesn’t work, he giggles a little and then suddenly they’re breaking down in loud guffaws for no fucking reason with _Werewolf Princess_ howling, melancholy and bittersweet in the background, and that just makes them double over all over again, Luke’s socked feet thumping on the arm of the sofa.

“Okay—” Ashton gasps out, wiping at his eyes. “Okay, let’s watch.”

The premise is simple enough—werewolf princess looking for a prince and also trying to investigate a string of murders and rogue werewolves. There’s a lot of gore, and Luke has to wince when some skinny beanpole kid gets his heart torn out by a weird, vaguely wolf-looking creature (who’s actually a human in a very terrible, very obvious suit.)

Of course, the acting is cheesy, but there’s a sex scene that’s looking a lot like a softcore porno that makes Luke wriggle a little in Ashton’s lap.

“Shit,” Ashton giggles, “did he just call her _puppy_?”

With a noncommittal grunt, Luke pulls him into another kiss, lapping into his mouth and going back to touching everywhere he can until Ashton snickers again and mumbles, “Puppy,” effectively ruining the mood. Again. For the third time.

“You are _not_ getting any tonight,” Luke grumbles, but he’s fighting off his smile so it’s okay, and they watch the rest of the film in relative silence except for when Ashton starts tickling Luke in the ribs and when Luke imitates the terribly cheesy transformation from girl to girl-wolf-thing and Ashton loses it. And after that they just have to watch the sequel, right, so Ashton puts that on and they end up doing the same thing, switching so Luke is in optimum snacking position sprawled out over the sofa and Ashton is on his chest, running his fingers idly over Luke’s. They finish off three bags of chips and take a break to get popcorn.

“When are we done,” Luke manages between deep, dirty kisses, letting Ashton press him up against the fridge and holding onto the curve of his bum. All he gets as an answer is a soft moan and a tongue in his mouth, which of course he’s not complaining about.

“It’s supposed to be a _marathon_ ,” Ashton says, very delayed.

“You’re supposed to _love me_ ,” Luke stresses, even though at this point he’s just doing this to be a little shit—he really does love spending this kind of time with Ashton, even if he feels like his balls have shriveled up in the process.

“I love you very much but it’s Halloween.”

“And?” He doesn’t earn himself a reply, but a grunt of distaste and the sound of the microwave beeping. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best. Come on, Lukey,” Ashton says happily, shoving a handful of nearly too-hot popcorn against his lips and then prancing out of the kitchen.

By the time they get to the first Saw movie, it’s nearing two AM and they’re alternating between dozing off on each other’s shoulders and jumping at the most surprising scenes, pressing kisses behind each other’s ears and pecking at each other’s mouths and generally being very innocent and scared.

At four, Luke yawns so wide he feels a pop in his jaw and Ashton is snuffling around on his shoulder. “You suck,” Luke mumbles blearily, grabbing him around the waist and then just kind of—falling off the sofa. He and Ashton hit the floor with twin groans, but instantly twine around each other like that’s just how they’re meant to be. He settles in with an eerie screech serving as the romantic music, limbs feeling like they’re made of lead and eyelids sleep-heavy.

“Happy Halloween, pup,” Ashton says, wraps him up tight, and wards the nightmares away.


End file.
